Every You Every Me
by sixtiesglamour
Summary: Puck is growing tired of his usual conquests; he needs a challenge. Quinn gives him one - Rachel. But what happens when Rachel becomes more than just a bet? Loosely based on Cruel Intentions. Puckleberry, but heavily features Quinn.
1. Sucker love is heaven sent

**A/N: Before you read on, here's one thing you should know as background of the story:**

_**No one in the popular crowd has joined Glee yet.**_

**The story is slightly AU, slightly this-is-what-really-happened-but-they-never-showed-it-in-Glee fanfic. I twisted some of Glee's story lines, made it happen in different times or instances, so don't be surprised if you see a familiar line or so.**

**And yes, this fanfic was inspired (read: loosely based on) by Cruel Intentions, along with the song Every You Every Me by Placebo (which by the way, you should listen to).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

Puck could hear his phone vibrating, somewhere underneath the heap of clothes that lay on the floor. They were strewn across the room looking like someone had undressed hurriedly. A pink lacy bra hung on the doorknob. His boxers rested on the foot of the bed. But his jeans were nowhere to be found.

He sat straight up to look for them, but they remained to be seen. Somewhat begrudgingly, he rose from the bed to search for his jeans, not even bothering to cover himself up.

"Leaving so soon?" A forty-something woman asked in a husky voice, still resting beneath the covers. She looked like she got a day treatment from a spa as she stretched lazily and purred like a contented kitten. Puck smirked. He wasn't new to getting that kind of reaction from women, let alone stay-at-home moms. "Seen my jeans?" He grinned, quite pleased. The woman gazed at the ceiling, as though taking a moment to ponder on this. Then she sighed, smiling, and looked over at him as he snatched his boxers from the foot of the bed and started to get dressed. "It's over here." She reached for them, which lay on the side of her bed, and fished out his still vibrating phone. She read the screen and raised an eyebrow playfully. "Who's Finn? Does he want to play too?"

"Don't even think about it," Puck growled, amused at her innuendo. He climbed back on the bed and snatched his phone away from her manicured hands. He flipped open his phone and greeted his friend with a careless, "Sup."

"Dude, where the hell are you?" Finn said, sounding quite annoyed and impatient. "Coach Tanaka called a practice today, remember?"

"Oh shit, right," Puck muttered, recalling Tanaka's angry face as he sprayed the football team with spit giving them a sermon on how they haven't won any games.

"Well come on hurry-" He heard Finn say on the other end, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice in the background. "Hudson, stop gabbing on the phone and get your ass on the field now!" Finn quickly said, "Uh, gotta go, dude." Then the line went dead.

Puck snapped his phone shut and glanced at the brunette on his bed, who was staring back at him expectantly.

"Sorry babe, gotta go," Puck said and dressed quickly. The older woman - what was her name again? - didn't respond; she just stared at him, half deep in thought, and half in lust. Puck caught the unmistakable glint in her eyes and smirked arrogantly; he knew that look. He had seen it a hundred times. The first time he saw that look was just a few weeks ago when he was cleaning the Hollis family's pool. He had just been dumped by Santana, his then girlfriend, because his credit score was low. His credit score! He was dumbfounded by her reason; his credit score didn't seem to be a problem when they were making out in the corridors or doing more on her bed. He was disappointed by their breakup. To him, Santana was a free pass to sex; she was the most willing girl in school he knew, aside from that dumb blonde in the cheerleading squad, Brittany, but he didn't really count her because she only did it for her record of being a slut or something. But then Santana decided to be the bitch she was and dumped him, so he had resorted to nothing. Until that day he cleaned Mrs. Hollis' pool.

It had been a hot day and he was sweating profusely, so he took off his sweat-soaked shirt. He didn't really think that it would have an effect on Mrs. Hollis, or at least he thought so until she came out from the poolhouse with a tray of cool drinks in hand.

"Thanks, Mrs. H," he said while he grabbed a drink of cool lemonade from the tray. And then there it was - the glint of lust in her eyes. But she wasn't staring at his body; she was ogling at his nipple ring. He knew this because she asked, "Is that a nipple ring?"

It was a weird thing for an older woman such as her to notice, but her body was smokin' so he didn't really care. "Yeah. It's kind of rock and roll."

"I need your help unclogging my bathtub drain," she proposed without even the slightest hesitance.

And unclog her bathtub drain he did.

Mrs. Hollis must have been quite the gossiper, because ever since, his pool-cleaning business skyrocketed. And he's been getting acquainted with cougars ever since. It came to the point that he didn't even bother to recall their names anymore and remember his conquests. It was becoming all too easy for him. He missed the challenge that he always got with high school girls.

"So I'll see you soon?" the dark-haired woman on the bed said, shattering his train of thought. He smirked. "Maybe." And without waiting for a reply, he headed out.

Once he stepped foot on the backyard, he spotted a familiar teenage boy in a blue and white football uniform dragging his feet towards the front door. He looked worn out and happy to be home, but then his face broke into an unfriendly leer.

"What are you doing here, Puckerman?" He sneered. "Don't you have football practice? No wonder your team sucks."

Puck sneered back. He could care less about football. He was only there because that's what studs like him do - play sports. But he couldn't resist an opportunity like this. "Heading over there right now. I was just having sex with your mom. On your bed. Nice Star Wars sheets." And then he walked away, not even bothering to see his reaction. Probably one of terror. He chuckled, slid into his truck, and drove off.

* * *

"Puckerman!" A fat balding man yelled at him from halfway across the field. Several football players on the field seemed to be retiring from practice; they were heading towards the bench and water dispensers. Finn was one of them. He was giving Puck an apologetic you're-a-dead-man look. Coach Tanaka marched towards him, and as he did, he pulled up his shorts by the belt buckle, as he always did when he had something urgently important to say. Puck braced himself for another torturous sermon, complete with flying spit.

"Next time," the coach spat, "at least have the decency to say that you're going to be missing practice, goddammit!" He grabbed the cap off his head and threw it angrily on the ground. Then he leaned closer, forcing Puck to breathe an air of sweat and body odor. "Now listen here, Puckerman. One more screw up like this and you're off the team, got it, you little psychopath?" Puck wouldn't have been surprised if his ears started to emit smoke, just like in the cartoons his little sister watches. Coach Tanaka wasn't usually this angry. The ankle-grabber with the Star Wars sheets was right; Lima's football team sucks. And Tanaka was sick of losing.

Coach Tanaka retrieved his cap from the ground and stormed off. Apathetic, Puck turned away to face Finn, who was downing a bottle of watter to quench his thirst. "Sucks, dude," Finn said, shaking his head slowly to show sympathy. "Where were you, anyway?"

"Cougar," Puck shrugged nonchalantly, and Finn's eyes went wide. Finn knew all about his after-school affairs; after all, they were best friends. But that didn't stop him from being surprised. Finn didn't get twice the amount of action Puck got in a month. No, Finn didn't get any action, period. He was dating the president of the celibacy club, Quinn Fabray, who was also the captain of the Cheerios, the cheerleading squad of McKinley High. And that basically meant that Finn was never going to get some, unless he cheated on Quinn. But Finn wasn't like that. He was pretty much the golden boy of McKinley High. He was popular and squeaky clean, meaning he didn't have a reputation quite as tarnished as Puck's. Everybody loved him.

"You dog," Finn chuckled it off, but his bewilderment was still evident. Puck laughed with him anyway. In a way, he felt sorry for Finn and his unwanted virginity.

Their conversation was interrupted by a megaphone crackling in the distance. "You think this is hard? I'm living with hepatitis, that's hard! Hit the showers!" The snarky voice belonged to Coach Sylvester. Puck spotted Quinn descending from the pyramid, and the rest followed. Everyone except Quinn disappeared headed for the girls' locker room; Quinn sauntered towards them. Puck ignored the churning feeling in his stomach.

"Hey, Finn," she smiled shyly as she looked up at her boyfriend towering over her. She whipped her head at Puck's direction, blonde hair softly slapping Finn's chest. "Puck," she greeted with a tone one would only say was bitchy. Quinn didn't like Puck very much, probably because he kept hitting on her and every other girl in school. "Fabray," Puck nodded, but Quinn was busy making out with Finn to acknowledge his greeting.

Without thinking, Puck's eyes roamed to her skirt. He loved their cheerleading uniform. When he was dating Santana, she bent over once and he swore that he could see her ovaries. His eyes lingered on her legs. Yes, he was a leg man. Everyone with eyes would be too when the Cheerios took every chance they could to flaunt their legs.

He was beginning to feel uncomfortable observing Quinn as she kissed Finn. He didn't like this feeling; he knew what it was, he just didn't want to accept it. "Okay, the only time I'm letting myself watch a couple make out is if they're both girls," Puck said loudly. He didn't want to sound childish, but he didn't know what else to do there. That was as polite as he could get. Quinn sneered at him. Finn didn't look at him; he just continued to stare at Quinn, obviously mesmerized. Puck hated that at the back of his mind, he knew the feeling. "I'm out of here," Puck continued, not to be impolite, but because he really was bored and coming to the field was a waste of time. "It's getting late. See you, man." He nudged Finn with a closed fist. "Quinn," he smirked, and Quinn rolled her eyes. He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving them and his discomfort in the field.

* * *

**A/N: I won't promise anything, but I will really try to finish this story. Haha. Maybe if I got a ton of reviews, I might actually see this through. You know what to do! :P Oh, and I really would like to improve on writing, so maybe critique a bit. Thanks. :D**


	2. You pucker up, our passion's spent

**A/N: I'm not confident with this chapter. It's a bit awkward; I'm not very good with the transitioning of events. But anyway, I had it critiqued by a friend, and I guess it's good enough to post.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee nor the eavesdropping scene.**

* * *

A week later, Finn joined Glee.

A few days before, Finn told Puck that he was only part of the club because he had to make up for his failing marks in Spanish class, but Puck knew he was officially in Homo Explosion when he let that wheelchair kid out of the portable toilet. He didn't know what to do with this new piece of information; he made it clear that he disapproved, but he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous that Finn joined Glee with so much confidence in himself that he can just do anything he want. However, he knew that he couldn't do much about it. If it were another guy on the football team, he would have slushied him every day until he quit Glee, but Finn was his best friend; he couldn't just do that. Firing a paintball gun at him was bad enough, and he had only allowed himself to do it because Finn lied about his mom having her prostate removed. Yeah, right. Chicks don't have prostate.

But no one was more upset about this than Quinn. One day, when Finn brought up Glee before class, she couldn't take it anymore.

"We are lined to be the most popular kids in the school for the next couple of years. Prom king and queen, homecoming court royalty, I am not giving up those shiny crowns just because you want to express yourself!" Quinn hissed.

"Look, you're making too big a deal out of this," Finn replied, amused at the blonde's reaction and uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Okay, let's compromise. If you quit the club, I'll let you touch my breasts," Quinn proposed, flashing him her most alluring smile.

"Under the shirt?"

"Over the bra."

Pause. "No, I can't. I wanna do Glee, I'm really happy when I'm performing," Finn insisted.

"People think you're gay now, Finn. And you know what that makes me? _Your big, gay beard_." Quinn glared at him, looking deadly serious.

Finn snorted. "Look, I gotta go to class. Just relax, everything's going to work out." Then he shut his locker and walked off to class. Quinn watched him walk away, only to spot a tiny brunette in a pink sweater and argyle socks following Finn not-so surreptitiously with her eyes. Quinn fumed.

Rachel Berry. The Queen of the Gleeks. It was no secret that she was into Quinn's boyfriend, and what irritated Quinn more than Finn joining Glee was Rachel's indiscreet fawning for her boyfriend. Quinn absolutely despised the fact that Glee was tearing her and Finn apart, and Rachel was just another pesky little pest in their relationship.

"Eavesdrop much?" Quinn snarled loudly, getting the attention of Rachel, who seemed to be hiding behind her locker as she gazed longingly after Finn. She turned around to face Quinn, who was evidently resisting all urges to tear her head apart.

"Time for some girl talk, Manhands," Quinn sneered, "You can dance with him, you can sing with him, but you will_ never_ have him." To her surprise, Rachel looked unperturbed.

"I understand why you would feel threatened; Finn and I have a connection. But I am an honorable person. I don't need to steal your man," Rachel countered as Quinn scoffed. "I have plenty of suitors on my own. Every day Glee status is going up and yours is going down. Deal with it." Rachel shut her locker and turned away, only to regret it. In a second, her face was dripping with blueberry slushie. As she wiped the corn syrup off her eyes, she heard the same boys who slushied her high-five each other, creating a noise of gunshot to her ears, and Quinn's giggling echoing in the corridor.

* * *

Rachel's heart fluttered as Finn walked into the choir room. He looked distracted, and he didn't seem to want to talk to anyone, even her, because he settled on sitting in the far end of the choir room. His eyes seemed miles away, either giving him a glazed look or a thoughtful one. Rachel decided that he was deep in thought. She was about to call him over when Mr. Schue, their Glee director, entered and greeted the six kids in the room. Then he launched into a lecture about Sectionals and their number for the Invitationals, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop talking soon, so Rachel waited patiently for rehearsal to end.

After an hour or so of singing and dancing, the room began to empty as Mr. Schue and the Glee kids went home, except Finn, who was still in a daze, as he was all throughout rehearsal. Rachel decided to stay behind, curious to why Finn was behaving oddly.

"Hey Finn," she approached him gently. "Are you okay?"

Finn, who was staring at his sneakers, looked up and met her gaze. "Not really. I'm just getting kinda confused with this whole Glee and football thing. I honestly don't get what's so wrong about it. Quinn's giving me such a hard time." He looked like someone ran over his puppy. She couldn't help but notice how cute he looked in his time of sadness.

"I understand. I can feel the gravity of peer pressure weighing down on me too, probably not as much as you because I keep in mind that I am going to be a huge star on Broadway someday, but Glee is all about joy and self-expression; it's senseless to think of the club as queer and lame. If the miscreants of this school and your cliche of a girlfriend can't understand, then I'm sorry, but clearly, they don't care about your happiness nor your welfare," Rachel said.

"Yeah, I guess. The other guys I can stand, but Quinn's clearly not into the whole Glee thing. What should I do? I don't want to quit Glee, but it's not like I want to break up with Quinn over it."

"Well, if Quinn was a good girlfriend, she would stand by you through thick and thin. That includes Glee. She really should be supportive of the things you do, Finn. That is what a relationship must be, after all, right? You have to be there for each other." Rachel was relieved by the end of her sentence; she didn't sound as brash as she usually was. What she really wanted to say was 'ditch Quinn, I would be a better girlfriend than her', but she knew that wasn't exactly what Quinn suggested she do when they had that talk earlier.

"Yeah," Finn said, as though realizing just now, "She should be supportive of me. I should be able to make decisions on my own without people making me do stuff that they want me to do." Then, he smiled. "Thanks, Rachel, I knew I could count on you to make me feel better."

Rachel smiled, and instinctively, she reached over and held his hand. Finn squeezed her hand tenderly and gazed at her as she gazed back at him. Their faces were so near each other, and their noses inched closer and closer until they grazed.

But that was it. Finn knew it, and she knew it. Rachel wouldn't take advantage of this opportunity to turn Finn into a cheater and herself a mistress.

But what they didn't know was that an angry blonde cheerleader stood by the doorway, glaring.

"You're a honorable person, you wouldn't steal my man, huh?"

Finn and Rachel almost got whiplash from whipping their heads at Quinn's direction. Rachel stepped back with wide eyes, not knowing what to say. But she didn't have to. Finn broke the silence when he stuttered, "Q-Quinn, i-it's not what it looks like."

"Right," Quinn's voice quivered. "I've heard that before." Not wanting to cry with an audience, she walked away, heavy with clammed up tears and disappointment. What she hated more than being a loser was being cheated on, especially with Rachel Berry. It was insulting to be cheated on with a freak who liked to sing show tunes and thought that knee high socks paired with mary janes were cool. No, she could not accept that.

"Quinn, come on, let me explain," Finn interrupted her reverie as he grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away.

"I don't want to hear it, Finn-"

"We were just talking about our conversation this morning! She was just giving me advice on how to deal with it!"

"Just stop right there, Finn." Quinn glared at him. "Now you're asking relationship advice from Manhands. Did it _ever_ occur to you in that pea-sized brain of yours that she has nothing to do with our relationship? I don't appreciate you going behind my back and asking Rachel Berry which you should choose, me or Glee!"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Finn raised his voice. "I was just wondering if there was a way I could have you and Glee in my life. I don't understand why you're so upset about this, Quinn. We didn't do anything wrong."

Quinn looked up at him with every feeling of insult etched on her face. "Well, it's nice to know you have your priorities straight," She said coldly as she glared at him, indignant. She pursed her lips as though to control her anger, the way she always did when something or someone pissed her off.

"Quinn," a vaguely annoying voice rang in the hallway. "I'm sorry that you walked in on something that may have seemed remotely adulterous, but Finn's telling the truth, we-"

"Shut it, Manhands," Quinn snapped. "I wasn't asking for your opinion." She glared at Rachel, daring her to say something or at least move, but she didn't. Rachel remained standing there on the hallway, her feet firmly planted on the ground.

Quinn now turned to Finn. "I know guys cheat on their girlfriends or wives," Quinn said icily, ignoring the lump that was lodged in her throat and the quivers her voice made. "But just don't do it with her. I'll talk to you when I calm down." She strode off with as much dignity as she had left, leaving Rachel speechless for once and Finn bewildered as always.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize for this chapter. There were many borrowed lines and scenes. I'm trying to recycle some scenes from Glee because I started from the pilot episode. It helps me to keep the story progressing. But I think I'll be relying less on the exact scenes from Glee in the upcoming chapters. Well anyway. Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! Hope you stay tuned, and please please, review! :)**


	3. My hearts a tart, your body's rent

**A/N: This is a long chapter in my standards, and I put a whole lot of effort into it! Sorry it took a while, I just felt really lazy. Hope you enjoy this one. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

"Mr. Schue." Rachel tapped the Spanish teacher on the back. He sighed, knowing she was going to criticize his teaching methods or blame him for ruining her career, and turned to face her. Her lips formed a straight line, her eyes blazing with passionate anger. Wordlessly, she pointed at the three ponytailed girls clad in red and white cheerleading uniforms. The Latina and the blonde with the permanently dazed look were chatting animatedly at the back. Below them sat Quinn, who was smiling triumphantly at Rachel with folded arms. "What are the Cheerios doing here?" Mr. Schue opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, Rachel raised a hand to stop him. "Before you say anything, I just want you to know that all the possibilities of why they are here of all places has already crossed my mind and has given me no calm to my turmoil. My dad is a lawyer, and anything you can say that may even has the slightest chance of sending me into hysterics may be used against you in a potential lawsuit on the grounds of sending me into dementia, causing me to need intense psychotherapy."

Mr. Schue raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side to confirm Rachel's thoughts. "In all fairness, they auditioned, and I have to say, they did a pretty good rendition of Say A Little Prayer." Rachel opened her mouth, obviously wanting to protest, but this time, Mr. Schue raised a hand to stop her. "It's official, Rachel. They're in Glee now." He shuffled his papers of sheet music in his hands and turned his back on her to talk to the pianist. Still in shock, Rachel stood there, her mouth agape. She folded her arms and lifted her chin, not wanting to accept this new development. Before she can even properly absorb this information, there was Quinn, walking towards her. This couldn't possibly be good. She sucked in all the air she could inhale and braced for Quinn's taunting words. But the menacing blonde didn't say anything. She just stood before her with a vicious smile plastered on her face. Rachel had half a mind to pull her hair and claw Quinn's eyes out, but she knew something like that would be the worst way to handle the situation. Quinn ruled the social scene in McKinley High, and everyone knew it. With one snap of her fingers, Rachel could be sentenced to daily slushie facials and dumpster visits, or worse, be a victim of the school-united silent treatment. Quinn wasn't afraid to play dirty; she was a bitch, plain and simple, and if anybody messed with her, they would not be spared from her vengeful wrath. So Rachel clenched her fists and bit her tongue to keep her from saying anything that might start a war.

"I suppose this is your way of getting back at me for the incident in the choir room two days ago." Rachel couldn't help it; she needed to say something to wipe that smile off the cheerleader's face.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to a smirk. "No," she replied, her chin raised high and arms folded. "I forgave Finn that same day. I'm not petty." Quinn pressed her hand to her chest to prove her sincerity. "We talked about our problems and sorted them out. So now I'm in Glee." She leaned in closer. "Because what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't support him?" There was no mistaking it now; her eyes flashed dangerously.

Speechless, Rachel just stared at Quinn. _She really is a bi- mean girl_, she thought, as Quinn glared at her for a split second then sauntered back to her seat. Meanwhile, Tina and Artie entered the room, followed by Kurt and Mercedes, then by Finn, who all looked just as surprised as she was minutes ago to see the Cheerios in the choir room.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?" Finn broke into a smile and kissed her swiftly on the cheek. Well, maybe he wasn't as surprised as Rachel was, then. Finn looked like he was over the moon with joy to find Quinn embracing Glee instead of pressuring him to quiet. Rachel, on the other hand, thought that she had died a little, and was ready to bring Mr. Schue down to his grave with her, since after all, it was his fault. Again.

"I just thought that I could support you if I got to know your passion more. And what better way to do that than join Glee?" Quinn shrugged, smiling, as Finn pulled away. Making certain that she was playing her vengeance well, she glanced at Rachel to see if she was looking. She was. Quinn held Finn's hand and pulled him to where she was sitting. "Come sit with me?" She smiled, and Finn grinned. Just as they sat and were about to make out (and just as Rachel planned her dramatic walk-out), Mr. Schue cleared his throat.

"Good, Finn, you're here," he began, and he started handing him some sheet music. Rachel perked up, curious to know which song she was going to be singing with Finn this time. She lived for duets with Finn. It fed her desire to be around him all the time. In a way, duets were almost better than actually being his girlfriend. In a song, especially a love song, they sung their hearts out, and their eyes roamed nowhere else but in each others' faces. And there was this undeniable connection between them, and what pleased Rachel was that everyone was there to witness it. No one accused her of inventing make-believe stories of Finn making googly eyes at her. (Well, maybe a few did, when she started launching a story about how she and Finn planned to elope.)

"You'll be singing Dreaming of You by Celine Dion as a duet for Regionals," Mr. Schue continued, as he started handing out sheet music to everyone in the choir room, Rachel being the last.

Happy that the song is one of Celine Dion's (one of her favorite artists), Rachel squealed, which caught Mr. Schue's attention. "I'm really glad you picked this song, Mr. Schue. I always thought that Celine Dion should be part of our repertoire. I'm surprised that you've agreed to accept this into our setlist," Rachel said quickly. "Come on, Finn, It will be my pleasure to coach you through our duet." She extended her hand to Finn.

But he didn't budge. He just sat in his seat, exchanging looks with Mr. Schue. Beside him, Quinn was smirking pitifully at Rachel. She frowned and dropped her arm. Mr. Schue gave her an apologetic look. Feeling her face heat under the unwanted spotlight, she glanced at her sheet music, and then realization dawned on her. In tiny letters below the title, it read 'backup vocals'.

She raised her head to find everyone's eyes on her. Mr. Schue looked cautious, while Finn looked bemused. Kurt and Mercedes were whispering while looking at her. Tina and Artie exchanged awkward glances at each other, then at her. Santana and Brittany looked bored. And Quinn stared right at her, flashing a wide triumphant smile.

She didn't have to be a genius to piece the puzzle together.

"You're giving Quinn Fabray the solo," she said sadly. She was never in 'backup vocals' in duets. Never in her whole time in Glee.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Mr. Schue said, and he really did look sorry. Somewhat. Actually, he looked like he felt sorry that Rachel was sad because now he would have to check under his bed every night or in the backseat of his car to see if she wasn't there with a silver knife in hand. "But the judges will expect variety from the show choirs. And it would be unfair if only you got the female lead."

"I see," Rachel said quietly. At the corner of her eye, she spotted Quinn still smiling devillishly, and in an instant, she was irked. Well, if Rachel couldn't have the female lead, then the male lead would have to differ as well. "But if that's so, why does Finn get to keep his spot as the male lead?" Her inner child whining managed to escape her through those words.

"When we get enough guys in the club, we'll give them an opportunity to be male lead. But for this song, Finn's the only one who has the right voice. Kurt's pitch is too high for a duet and Artie's voice is suited to a different genre."

Refusing to let it go, Rachel huffed and sat on her seat. As Finn and Quinn got up from their seats and took the floor, Rachel rolled her eyes.

From behind, where Kurt and Mercedes were sitting, Kurt bent over and whispered in her ears, yet audible enough for everyone to hear: "Now you know how we feel when Mr. Schue gives you the solo."

And for just a second, she felt sorry for hogging all the solos. Everyone should have the chance to perform, but her ambitions get the best of her. She knows that she is the best singer out of all of them, but it wasn't a good enough reason for her to steal all the solos. No wonder she doesn't have much friends in Glee.

But after the second had passed, she was back to complaining. No, the sinking feeling in her heart was not how they felt, because they wanted the solo as a chance to sing. She was not only upset about that, but it bothered her that she lost the one thing she knew she was best at, to Quinn, who already had everything that Rachel wanted for herself. Finn, friends, beauty. Well, Rachel knew she was beautiful, but in her own way. Truth be told, Rachel was just as insecure as the next girl. She was short, she had an odd nose, and her cheekbones were too prominent for her liking. And her insecurities were growing like a maturing vine as she watched in jealousy the couple preparing to sing their duet.

Mr. Schue shushed the group, and they all fell silent as they waited for Finn and Quinn to sing. Quinn nodded at the pianist, and he began to play.

_(Quinn)_

_Dreamin', dreamin', dreamin'..._

_(Quinn)_

_Lyin' in my bed_

_Thoughts in my head_

_Visions of you_

_But I can't get through the night_

_(Finn)_

_So pick up the phone_

_I know you're home_

_You're playin' with my heart_

_(Together)_

_And you know that it just ain't right_

_(Quinn)_

_It's just a game of love, love, love_

_And even though it's hard, baby_

_I can never give you up_

_(Together)_

_You're the one I'm dreamin' of_

_I can't live without your love tonight_

_And it's you that I adore_

_You're the one that I live for_

_Inside Of you-_

_I'm dreamin' of you_

_(Finn)_

_So I got in the car_

_But I didn't get far_

_Cause the radio played_

_Ev'ry song that I sang with you_

_(Quinn)_

_Yesterday's gone_

_And it may be true_

_But you know that_

_(Together)_

_I'll never get over you_

_(Finn)_

_It's just a game of love, love, love_

But before they can finish the song, Rachel stood up and loudly said, "Mr. Schue, they're not doing it right!" Her foot begged to be stomped on the ground, but she fought all her childish whims and folded her arms, defiant.

"Excuse me?" Quinn snapped at the brunette, clearly irritated at having been interrupted.

"I'm sorry, but your pale performance as two lovers dreaming of each other is not good enough for Regionals," Rachel turned to Mr. Schue and added, "Clearly, you've made the wrong choice in replacing me with Quinn for female lead. Or if you still want them to have a duet, you can change the song into something... less intense." Rachel finished it off with a careful choice of words. What she wanted to say was something less lovey-dovey, but that seemed inappropriate and unprofessional to suggest to Mr. Schue.

Quinn glared at her. "I think we can handle this on our own, Manhands." Rachel glared back, refusing to back down.

"We'll stick with the song and Quinn as female lead, Rachel," Mr. Schue said in a final tone. "But guys, Rachel's right. This song is about love; it's supposed to be passionate and soulful and full of desire. You need to make the audience feel that, otherwise your song will come out flat. Maybe-"

"Mr. Schue, if I may execute the right way on delivering passion as a key emotion to the audience," Rachel cut in. Without waiting for his approval, she told the pianist what to play. Then she stepped in front of Finn, consequently forcing Quinn to go nowhere but the side, right beside Mr. Schue.

Rachel motioned for the pianist to start, and a familiar tune played throughout the choir room. She moved around the piano until she faced Finn.

_The whispers in the morning_

_Of lovers sleeping tight_

_Are rolling like thunder now_

_As I look in your eyes_

Rachel stepped towards Finn, hands trembling with passion.

_I hold on to your body_

_And feel each move you make_

_Your voice is warm and tender_

_A love that I could not forsake_

_'Cause I am your lady_

_And you are my man_

_Whenever you reach for me_

_I'll do all that I can_

Then Finn took over with a smile on his face, as he circled around Rachel.

_(Finn)_

_Lost is how I'm feeling_

_Lying in your arms_

_When the world outside's too much to take_

_That all ends when I'm with you_

_Even though there may be times_

_It seems I'm far away_

_Never wonder where I am_

_'Cause I am always by your side_

_'Cause you are my lady_

_And I am your man_

_Whenever you reach for me_

_I'll do all that I can_

They held hands, oblivious to everyone in the room.

_(Together)_

_We're heading for something_

_Somewhere I've never been_

_Sometimes I am frightened_

_But I'm ready to learn_

_Of the power of love_

_(Finn)_

_The sound of your heart beating Made it clear_

_(Rachel)_

_Suddenly the feeling that I can't go on _

_Is light years away_

_(Together)_

_'Cause I am your lady (you are my lady)_

_And you are my man (I am your man)_

_Whenever you reach for me I'll do all that I can_

_(Together)_

_We're heading for something_

_Somewhere I've never been_

_Sometimes I am frightened_

_But I'm ready to learn_

_Of the power of love_

Silence fell after the duo stopped singing. It seemed like no one was going to speak. Not Finn, who was overwhelmed at the performance and hoping that Quinn wasn't going to castrate him. Not Rachel, whose chest was rising and falling, trying to catch her breath but smiling at the same time. And not Quinn, who looked like she was going to pull a Sue Sylvester and throw chairs at the wall or shove students to the floor. Not even Mr. Schue, who looked in awe at the two. No, he didn't speak. All he did was step forward, brought his to hands together, and applauded.

And so did the rest of Glee.

"That's what I'm talking about, guys!" Mr. Schue nodded at Rachel and Finn as the applause died down. "I think you did great, Rachel. Maybe you could do Power of Love with Finn at Regionals."

Quinn stepped in front of Mr. Schue, evidently angry. "What about my duet with my _boyfriend_?" She hissed the word 'boyfriend' as she threw a furious look at Rachel. The petite brunette merely stared back.

"Um." If Rachel didn't know any better, Mr. Schue looked like he wasn't interested in Dreaming of You anymore. But he had to stand by what he said, so he continued, "We'll work on the duet, okay? Hopefully we'll be ready with Dreaming of You for Regionals too." At this, Quinn glared at him and angrily made her way to her friends, who looked the opposite of bored now.

Rachel went back to her seat and watched sadly as Finn returned to his, beside Quinn. Must she always come out as the loser? She sighed and faced in front. Her view was occupied by the curly-haired teacher who then began to give them an assignment for the next meeting.

* * *

That night, someone in the Cheerios threw a house party, and being the cheerleading captain, Quinn went to the party. Everyone was there. Well, not everyone. Just the cool people. And to Quinn, that was everyone.

She was still quite angry about what happened in Glee. It was humiliating, to be outshone by Rachel Berry. She hated retaliation; why doesn't it ever end with her attack? Must there always be someone to fight back? It was exhausting, and totally not worth her time. Lucky for her, being a bitch was a piece of cake for her.

She was alone at the party that night. Finn didn't show up at her door like he was supposed to; for a while, she was annoyed at his tardiness, but then she realized that he told her in the morning that he wouldn't be able to make it to the party because he had to be with his mom for something. Sighing, Quinn scanned the room. She wasn't completely alone. There were a lot of people here that she knew, and even some who she was actually friends with. Brittany and Santana were talking to a group of huge muscled guys from the football team by the archway. Meanwhile, Puck was chatting it up with a considerably pretty copper-haired sophomore, who was sporting a miniskirt and stiletto heels; no wonder Puck was talking to her.

"Hey, Quinn," a voice behind her greeted. She turned around only to be disappointed; it was just Karofsky, a smug punk in the hockey team. He had a strong dislike for her boyfriend ever since the fifth grade. It was a stupid feud that Finn had told her about, only she had forgotten it. She rolled her eyes at the looming teenager and swatted her hand, with bored eyes clearly saying, _you can run along now_. "Get lost, Neanderthal," she said, feeling the need to verbalize her eyeroll when Karofsky was just staring at her with an evident look of lust in his face.

Quinn was suddenly getting bored in the party; it was unusual for her to feel so. Maybe it was just because Finn wasn't around. Or maybe it's because of what has been happening with RuPaul and Finn and everything in Glee. Or maybe it was just because in a sea of faces she hardly recognized, she was lost and lonely and she never felt more out of place and unwanted in her entire life.

Or maybe it was just the wine coolers corrupting her usually inflated ego.

The thing was, Quinn used to be invincible, impenetrable. But then Finn came along and made her heart swoon, not just because he was the quarterback, but because he was sweet and different and had the most amazing smile. And she let her guard down to let him in. And then Glee dragged Finn downhill, away from the safe place where they used to reside, and suddenly, she was not so invincible, after all. All she felt was dejected and desolate and hungry for Finn's attention, now that it was divided into Glee, Rachel, and herself.

Her thoughts were depressing her. Quinn made her way to the kitchen, where most of the drinks were. She poured herself a mixture of cranberry juice, vodka, tequila, a questionable looking dark fizzy drink, and as they mixed in her glass, it turned into a sickening shade of brown. She downed it anyway, and the dirnk immediately gave her throat the burning sensation that she needed. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and shuddered as her tongue registered the awful taste in her mouth. She polished off her drink, regardless.

"Enjoying the party, Fabray?" a deep rough voice asked her.

"Back off, Puck," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for one of your flirting games." She proceeded to refill her glass, but the tanned mohawked boy snatched it out of her hand and began to do it for her. Quinn just stared at him, taken aback that he didn't retort. He glanced at her as he poured in more vodka, giving her a brief fleeting smile. When he handed her drink to her, she muttered, "Thanks." She barely heard him reply, "You're welcome."

She downed her drink; damn, was that strong. She scrunched up her eyes, letting the strong burning taste pass. Then she looked up and saw Puck right in front of her, smirking. He looked slightly inebriated, what with his eyes glazed and slightly drooping, free of intensity. Quinn smirked back at him. "Well to answer your question, no I'm not. Finn isn't here, and parties are just so boring when you're taken and your boyfriend's not around." She sighed. "And now I feel fat because my stomach's all bloated from drinking." She stuck out her bottom lip in true annoyance. When she drank, she was always honest; she hated that. Everyone would have realized that Quinn Fabray was an insecure little girl, but no one really did; they were usually to drunk to remember something like that the next morning. She changed the subject when her mind floated away and paid attention to the gaping hole inside her. "How are you, Puck? Hooked up with anyone in the party yet? Maybe that twelve year old you were talking to?" She smiled mischievously. She was well aware of Puck's consecutive conquests.

As though he didn't hear her question at all, Puck scoffed and replied, "You're not fat."

Quinn raised her eyebrow, and Puck shrugged. "What, it's the truth. You're like the hottest girl in the room," He said like it was a fact, and brought the beer in his hand to his lips, but before he could take a sip, someone was attacking him with her lips. Quinn. Puck would have died out of shock, but they were kissing, and it felt really good, and it somehow resolved his loneliness that night. Her hands were holding him, caressing his face, and his hands were roaming down to his waist. Led by their lust and desire to be with someone tonight, their feet shuffled across the tiled floor and made their way to the nearest room. Puck twisted the doorknob, and they almost fell on the floor, but Puck pulled her back in. Their tongues were exploring each other's mouths, and as they walked farther into the room, they fell on their backsides and right into a bathtub. It registered in Quinn's mind that they were in a bathroom. It also dawned on her that she was making out with Finn's best friend. Quickly, she broke away the kiss.

"What?" Puck said, feeling every bit of annoyed as his voice sounded.

"You know exactly what, Puck," Quinn snapped. "Look, whatever. We're drunk, okay, and obviously we're not going to tell Finn about this." Puck glared at her, but then his face broke into a smirk. He leaned in closer to Quinn. "Come on, it's like what you said. We're drunk, and we're not going to tell Finn. So let's just enjoy this, okay?" He dove in for a kiss, only for Quinn to dodge him and get up from the bathtub. Rolling her eyes, she said icily, "God, just stop, Puck. I don't cheat on my boyfriends, and even if I do, you would be the last boy on earth who I would cheat on."

Puck glared at her. "Whatever. No wonder Finn's cheating on you with Rachel, you're such a prude bitch." He got up from the bathtub to level with Quinn, who looked prepared to murder him with her bare hands. "Finn is not cheating on me with Manhands," she hissed, and at this, Puck laughed. Loudly. "What?" she screeched, clearly very irritated.

Still laughing, Puck said, "Babe, you're hot, but you're fucking naive." He leaned in closer, his smile twisting into a taunting sneer. "He may not be making out with Berry like we just did, but yeah, he totally has the hots for her. And why wouldn't he, Berry's hot. Maybe even hotter than you." He added that last sentence just to piss Quinn off. And he did. Quinn replied with anger blazing in her eyes, "Well if she's so hot, why don't you date her?" She folded her arms, wanting to slap Puck, who was grinning.

"Too easy, Quinn," he laughed. "And anyway, you know I don't date. I'm not a one-woman man." He looked so smug and sure of himself. And why wouldn't he be? Rachel Berry, like everyone else, would fall under his spell in a matter of minutes. All he had to was charm them, make them believe that they were the most beautiful girl on earth, and he would have them naked before him in seconds.

Quinn scoffed. "Please, stop making excuses for yourself. It's obvious that even if you tried, you can never get someone like Rachel Berry to date you, let alone sleep with you. She's high maintenance, she's unbearable. She's Rachel Berry, and she's never going to be into you."

Now it was Puck's turn to scoff. "You wanna bet?"

"Why the hell not?"

Puck froze. He wasn't expecting Quinn to accept the bet. But then, he smirked. "Okay, Fabray, you asked for it. Get ready to lose."

"Oh, trust me, Puck," Quinn laughed, and then her face turned serious. "I've never lost, and I'm not about to start now."

"You're on."

They stared at each other for a minute, never taking their eyes off each other. Puck looked more determined than Quinn has ever seen him. With unwavering cool, she gave a casual, easy smirk and said, "What are the terms?"

"If I win, _we_," he pointed to Quinn and himself, "are hooking up."

Quinn opened her mouth, but no words came out. Puck could sense her hesitance, so he added with a malicious smile, "Don't worry, no one will know about it. It'll be a one time thing, just our dirty little secret." He half expected her to back out, what with her Jesus-loving values and all, but to his astonishment, Quinn smirked. "And if I win," she said as she paced, "I get to shave your mohawk."

"What! No way! What makes you think I'd go for that?" Puck responded defensively. "That's the essence of the Puckerone you're talking about! That is my lifeline right there." He pointed to his mohawk to prove a point.

But Quinn just smiled mischievously. "Because I'm the only girl you can't have and it kills you." She raised her head, smug at how well this was going.

Puck froze, slightly embarrassed at how much of an open book he was. But he shook his head, refusing the challenge. "Not worth it, Fabray." He walked past Quinn and toward the door, until:

"Afraid you're going to lose, Puckerman?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Now that was not an option. Walking away from a bet because he knew he could lose was not an option. He was Noah Puckerman, for christ's sake. He was fearless, dauntless. If anything, fear was the gift that he gave to anyone who even thought of messing with him. He wasn't about to get any back from a hot manipulative bitch like Quinn.

So he turned around, held out a hand and smirked at her. "Not at all. You got yourself a bet, babe."

And they shook on it.

* * *

**A/N (edited): Agh, sorry if the ending seemed rushed. It's past my bedtime and I have to get up early the next day. But see how much I love you guys, I posted this the same day I finished it! Haha. Anyway, yeah. You know what to do. Review review review! They'll make me want to continue this story. Or even offer some suggestions! Like say, how would you want Puck to woo Rachel? : Yess. Haha. I'm currently working on the next chapter, so hit the review button if you wanna suggest something and I'll consider it. :)**

**Oh, and sorry for the weird spacing (if there are any) and wrong grammar/spelling and stuff. I'm not using Word, and the proofread button in here refuses to work.**


	4. My body's broken, yours is bent

**A/N: Finally, a Puckleberry chapter! So sorry that it took me this long to bring some Puck and Rachel interaction to the story. It isn't much, but it's a start. More at the end of the chapter.**

**Previously: Quinn thinks Puck can't get Rachel to date him. Puck thinks otherwise. Who will win the bet?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Cruel Intentions. Or anything, really.**

* * *

Puck couldn't believe himself; there he was lying on his bed, thinking about how to get Rachel Berry to date him, or better yet, sleep with him.

Normally, he would spend his evenings playing video games, going to parties, having an insanely boring dinner with his family in front of the television with Thai food steaming in hand, or - and this he did quite frequently - thinking about girls. Women. Blondes. Brunettes. Skinny girls, sexy girls, fair or dark-skinned... it didn't matter to him. He loved girls, period. But he never spent his time thinking of how to get into someone's pants. He didn't have to; they usually fell on his lap like he was literally a chick magnet. But this time was different. This was Rachel Berry, after all. He never really looked twice at her; sure, she was hot, but she was all bundled up in sweaters and knee-high socks or ridiculous pantsuits. As for the skirts though, he was all for it. And even if she dressed like a normal sixteen year old, it would be extremely difficult to just be in the same room with her. She would start babbling about Glee and Broadway and becoming a huge star someday. Her overwhelmingly ambitious attitude was too much for Puck to handle; it was like listening to a human dictionary that lived its whole life on Broadway and talked endlessly like a broken record reeling and reeling. She made him want to light himself on fire, and not in a good way, and this was exactly why she came as a challenge to him. He wasn't afraid that Rachel would never be interested him; even if he had no clue on how to charm her or get her to even take an interest in him, that was just impossible. Pucksaurus could get any girl he wanted. He just cared for his sanity too much, that's all.

This was all Quinn's fault. He only agreed to the bet because she basically called him out as chicken. Not only that, but she was right about another thing; it drove him to the edge that Quinn was ultimately unattainable. It didn't matter that she had a boyfriend; even MILFs broke their vow of fidelity just to get some Puckzilla, but not Quinn. No, she barely lusted for him; he could recall his disappointment when he saw the absence of lust in her eyes.

But it was all going to change now; Puck was going to win that bet for sure, and he was going to hook up with Quinn, or god forbid he would have to wake up every morning without a mohawk.

And that was just not acceptable.

* * *

There are countless things Rachel could think of just off the top of her head, countless things she would expect to see after slamming her locker shut. It could be Quinn, telling her to leave her boyfriend alone. Or it could be Jacob Ben Israel, once again sexually harassing her. Maybe Finn, smiling down at her with a huge goofy grin. It could be Barbra Streisand for all she knew. But never in a million years would she expect to see Puck, leaning against the locker with a confident smirk plastered on his face, holding a cup of slushie that hasn't been thrown to her face the second she closed her locker.

Rachel's then scrunched up face transformed into a simple confused frown; well this would be interesting... not. She knew what to expect of this Neanderthals - empty threat-filled conversations that didn't require any neurons. But her curiosity was piqued, so she asked cautiously: "Yes, Puck?"

"I got this for you," Puck said, handing her the slushie. "I picked it up for you when I was buying dip. It's grape." Hesitantly, she took it from his hand and looked up at him with questioning eyes. "I know it's your favorite because the last time I tossed you a grape one at your face, you licked your lips before you cleaned your face off."

Well, this was unexpected.

"Um, thank you?" Rachel replied uncertainly. Puck smirked in return. "So I was wondering, do you wanna hang out after school?"

Scratch that - now _this_ was unexpected.

Rachel looked at him disbelievingly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Berry," Puck replied confidently. "You, me, after school. Bowling alley, maybe? Or wherever you want?" But the only reply he received was an astounded look from Rachel. He raised his eyebrow, impatiently waiting for a nod.

Instead of a nod, she asked incredulously, "Are you asking me out on a _date_?"

He snorted. "Duh. Thought you were smart, Berry." He chuckled.

She frowned, suspicious of his ulterior motives. "Now why would you want to do that?"

He shrugged. "You're hot." What else? But the look on Rachel's face told him he needed to say something more flattering than that. "And you're one of the few chicks in school who are actually interesting, so..." He trailed off, not really sure if that seemed believable. Well, she certainly was interesting, to some extent. Her incessant babbling about stardom and show tunes were pretty amusing, if he thought about it. Especially when they were followed by a slushie to the face. Then it was pretty fucking entertaining.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. She didn't know Puck personally. The only time they interacted was when he threw a slushie at her face. He wasn't really her type; she usually went for guys who could keep up with her mentally and creatively. Usually guys who were musically inclined and perfectly adept at singing. Like say, Finn. She wasn't attracted to mohawked boys who referred to himself in atrocious third-person nicknames and considered throwing Glee kids such as herself in the dumpster. She stared at him as he reached for the back of his head and fumbled with what very little hair he had nervously, and she couldn't help but notice his biceps bulging out of his gray shirt.

Okay, she'll admit: she found him attractive. And why wouldn't she? It's Noah Puckerman, one of the studliest guys in school. She racked her brains; no, Puck was the only studly guy in school. While Finn was good-looking and adorable and had the most saccharine smile, Puck just oozed with sex appeal and had the body of a sculptured god. But to Rachel, looks didn't factor into the equation. While she didn't really know him, she has heard about him and his... escapades. And from what she's heard, he wasn't looking so hot right now.

As her eyes rested on his arms, Puck smirked. She's totally hot for the Puckerone right now.

"You are so checking me out right now," Puck said smugly.

Rachel's head snapped back directly to Puck's face, but the glazed look did not leave her face. Then, realizing what she just did, she shook her head vigorously and blushed fiercely. She cleared her throat to demand Puck's attention.

"Look, Noah," she began with all sincerity. "While I'm obviously flattered that you want to date an ill-reputed -"

"Who said I wanted to date you?"

Rachel was suddenly interested at the ground, her face turning to a faint pink. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears and opened her mouth to explain her assumption, but before she could, Puck leaned in closer and flashed his most alluring smile. "Because I do." He chuckled silently as Rachel tried not to look too pleased. She was hell bent on rejecting his proposition, but the charming boy before her seemed to think that he can disarm her into changing her mind.

"As I was saying," she pressed on, wearing a tone of finality, "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in dating you. We're polar opposites, and you wouldn't be able to handle the ups and downs of loving an admittedly high-maintenance girl like me. I just don't see us working out. I'm sorry."

Puck blinked. She was rejecting him?

_Rachel freaking Berry?_

Fine, Puck fumed silently. He didn't need this. Even if she had said yes, he doubted that he would be able to stand a few hours with her alone. She was probably going to talk in that no-nonsense Berry way of hers, heavy with big unfamiliar words and Broadway bullshit. Or even worse, break into song.

He could just imagine: both of them are dining in a quiet dimly-lit restaurant, and out of the blue, Rachel stands on the table and flings her arms as she gaily sings "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story...

He shook his head. No way is he in this bet now.

But then, an image of a shaven-headed Puck flashed before him.

Okay, fine, he'll admit it. When it came to dating and wooing a girl into a relationship, he was as clueless as the next guy, or even that Jacob kid with the jewfro. He never really liked a girl who didn't already like him back. They usually flirted with him a bit, and he'd respond by being as charming as he could, but apparently, it took more than that to get a girl to be interested in him. His confidence in winning the bet was gradually wavering, and he couldn't have that. He had to strategize, and fast. He had to try, or else he would find himself praying to God that his mohawk would grow back.

"Why wouldn't we work out?" Puck asked. He knew very well the answer to his question, but he needed to dissect Rachel's view of the two of them dating and prod it to be in his favor.

"You know perfectly why, Noah. We're from different worlds, and sadly for you, our paths diverge by social standing - I'm the stunning ingénue from Glee Club and you're the disreputable boy on the football team -"

"Disreputable? What have you heard about me?" He pouted. Rachel bit her lip to restrain herself from smiling.

"More than what I need to know, actually. Aside from your constant need to make my life hell, you're off engaging in sexual conquests with women more than twice our age, gallivanting with fire extinguishers and pornographic magazines, and not to mention, you haven't been to your Math class in two years because you've been sleeping in the nurse's office, which by the way, is completely irresponsible and inconsiderate to your own needs. How you expect yourself to get out of this cow town is beyond me, but I digress."

"And you believe them?" He frowned. Pretty much all of them were true, but Rachel looked utterly unimpressed, so he feigned innocence.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" She said it so nonchalantly that Puck felt no need to deny it. She'd know he was lying, anyway.

"Reputation aside, I still think we'd be awesome together," Puck countered confidently. "We're a couple of good-looking Jews. It's natural!"

"Just because we belong to the same religion doesn't mean that we are compatible for each other, Noah," she said as she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, amused at his words. "It takes more than that to be in a relationship. I just think that having feelings for one another is important, as much as chemistry and compatibility with each other. It's detrimental for a relationship to blossom when none of said attributes are present."

Puck sighed. "Are you lesbian?"

Rachel blinked at him, startled at how unexpected his question was. "No," she said, feeling slightly offended.

"Sorry," Puck smirked, not at all sorry. The look on her face was worth it. "Chicks who dig chicks usually say those kinds of things to me. And then they take their tops off." He licked his lips as he conjured the very visual in his head.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever, Noah," as the school bell rang, sending students in files disappearing behind doors. She was about to walk away to her next class, but Noah grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her.

"Look, Berry, I wasn't even talking about a relationship. It's just a date. Dinner, maybe a movie -"

"I stand by what I said, Noah. The answer is no." She said this quite firmly, and if Puck were more sensitive, he would have heard the hint of impatience and annoyance in her voice.

"Why?"

"Do you really want to know?" Her voice was suddenly high-pitched and annoyed.

"Yeah!" He replied indignantly.

"You're kind of a jerk, Noah!" She exclaimed in exasperation, raising her hands in the air. Puck just blinked. "You throw slushies at me on a daily basis, you TP-ed my house after egging it,_ and_ you nailed my lawn furniture to the roof. How can you expect me to want to go out with a guy who does that?" She screeched with evident irritation now. "Clearly, you are suffering from a malignant tumor."

Puck just stared at her, not knowing what to say. When the football team proposed those things, it sounded like fun, and truth be told, it kind of was. But hearing it come out of her mouth, her words drenched with the humiliation and suffering she had endured for months, made him want to strangle whoever gave her hell, but then, as quickly as the feeling of guilt washed over him, he remembered that he was one of those people.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry that I did those things to you. I'm just really stupid sometimes. If I could, I would take it back." He knew it was a lame apology, but that was as sincere as he could get. He couldn't exactly say anything more uplifting like _'she didn't deserve it'_, because he'd just sound phony, and something told him Rachel was the kind of girl who knew the difference between apologizing and bullshitting.

"Well you can't, can you," she snapped, but quickly regretted it. Here was one of her tormentors, apologizing. Not many have done that. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled, letting go of all the ill feelings she had for Puck, and gradually, she grew calm. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. But now you know why I'm hesitant to go on a date with you." And just in cue, the second bell rang, reminding her that classes have already started. She checked her watch. "And now, I'm late. I have to go." And she briskly walked away, her heels clacking against the cold shiny floor, as Puck watched her go.

Well, Puck sighed, at least she was only_ hesitant_ to go out with him.

It could be worse.

* * *

"Hooked up with her yet?"

Puck sighed impatiently. He was at football practice, and he was working his ass off more than usual to get rid of his Rachel troubles. It was almost working; the only thing that would get him to completely forget about them is if Quinn shut the fuck up about it already.

"No," he grunted, as he casually threw the football in his hand to his teammate.

Behind him, Quinn snorted. "Loser." After catching the football back, he tucked it beneath his arm and turned to face her. She was not alone; Santana was with her. Their heads were both raised high, ready to fire an insult, the way cheerleaders always looked.

"Face it, Puckerman," Quinn continued airily. "Even you have to admit, she's out of your league." Puck wanted to smack the victorious smile she had off her flawless face.

"No one's out of my league," he growled, inadvertently muting the shouts coming from about a yard away from him. Coach Tanaka was blowing his whistle and yelling, "Get your ass here right now, Puckerman!" He heard that; he glanced over his shoulder, and there was the coach, surrounded by the whole football team. Thanking god for an excuse to exit their conversation without looking like a chump, he said, "Duty calls." and jogged his way to the huddle, as he heard Santana yell to him to be by his cell phone tonight. He smirked; even after they had broken up, they had kept their sexual relationship somewhat intact by their constant sexting.

"Now listen up," the coach said, as Puck joined the group, "Our kicker here made zero out of twelve field goal attempts in the past six games, as most of you statistically minded people know, THAT SUCKS!" He suddenly shouted, his spit spraying all over their faces. "So the next player who can get a football between those uprights will take his job. Who wants to go first?"

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm auditioning for the role of kicker," an effeminate voice interrupted. The football team turned their heads to his direction; Puck recognized him as that gay kid Hummel who requested that they hold his Marc Jacobs coat before throwing him into the dumpster. He laughed derisively, and so did the rest. Auditioning for the role of kicker_, seriously_? This wasn't a fucking musical or some shit. But Tanaka didn't seem to mind, just as Kurt, clearly oblivious to his error, lifted his aristocratic chin high in superiority to them. A few rolled their eyes. Only Finn looked hopeful.

But they all had to choke back their laughter; after dancing to that Beyonce song (_"Single Ladies"? Really?_) and basically making a fool out of himself, Kurt did it - he kicked the football and it went flying through the uprights. They were all stunned, and Coach Tanaka promptly made him kicker. To make matters worse, he had them dance to the same song before their next game as a strategy to give the element of surprise.

Well, at least Puck got what he wanted; he completely forgot about his Berry troubles. That is, until he spoke up in the middle of a dance rehearsal, his impulses to bully someone arising as he made yet another mistake in the footwork.

"Can't believe we're taking dance lessons from Lance Bass now," he muttered to himself, but loudly enough for the rest of the football team to hear. They guffawed loudly, as Kurt merely glared at him.

"Look guys, just back off, he's helping us win," Finn said, ever the peacemaker. Kurt smiled gratefully at him. Puck rolled his eyes; Finn was so clueless.

"Yeah dude, back off of his boyfriend now, ya hear," a jock behind Puck said quite loudly, and roars and laughter, along with his own, filled his ears.

Coach Tanaka, who was sitting quite comfortably on the bench before them, blew his whistle and yelled at them, "Less talking, more dancing."

Kurt glared at them once more. "Look, you miserable cretins, I'm trying to help you win, now if you want to be a pathetic loser for the rest of your high school life, go away, otherwise, you will listen to me and you will follow what I do, even if it means doing jazz hands or singing to Single Ladies." He finished firmly. "Now at the count of four, a-one, a-two -"

But Puck wasn't listening anymore. An idea was dawning on him. A very serious one that just might work. He didn't realize that everybody else was already dancing (quite reluctantly) along with Kurt, but the lurid boy made everyone stop. He faced Puck. "Do you have a problem following the steps, Puckerman?" He turned his attention Kurt, a sly smirk slowly creeping up his face.

"Hummel's right, guys," Puck said to everyone in the team. "We gotta do this to win. Even if it means looking like you've joined Homo Explosion." He grinned, sending the team into bewilderment. _Noah Puckerman, defending Glee Club?_ But they didn't know what was running through his mind.

Neither did Kurt. He looked as confused as they were, but he shook his head and resumed practice.

Puck grinned. He was _so_ back in the game.

* * *

**A/N: So how was that? Sorry if it lacked cohesiveness at some point; I wrote some on paper and typed the rest on the computer. I also apologize for any errors on grammar or punctuation or anything - I'm quite in a hurry right now. I'll edit anything I see wrong the next time I can.**

**Next up: Rachel could not believe her eyes:_ what on earth is Noah Puckerman doing here?_**

**So what did you think of the story? Click the review button and say anything! Comments, suggestions, opinions? More importantly, If I, say, gave Puck a chance to sing, what song would you want him to sing? And how else can he woo Rachel? You know what to do. Let's get those reviews to _30_! Won't be updating until we more or less reach that target; I don't usually resort to blackmail, haha, but I'm quite the busy bee as school is about to start (I am a nerd), and knowing that people still want to read more of this will urge me to continue this story.**

**Hope you liked the chapter! :)**


	5. Carve your name into my arm

**_A/N: _This isn't my best chapter. I've been busy with review classes, so it might appear disjointed to you. I don't know. It's quite short, I'm aware; I don't really have an excuse for that. :)) And I know I said I won't be updating until I get a certain amount of reviews, but to be honest, I'm not really into blackmail. :)) I appreciate all the reviews, though. Special thanks to bloodyblond for the song suggestion! I was really amazed at how perfect the song was for Puck. **

**So anyway, I hope you like this chapter all the same! :)**

**_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Glee, nor the song Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood.**

* * *

_This must be a joke. It has to be._

_No_, Rachel thought desperately, squeezing her eyes shut while forcing her brain to think otherwise of the situation_. No, Puck isn't leaning against the doorway of our choir room. No, he isn't sending me playful smirks and smug looks. No, he isn't actually planning on joining our Glee club. No, he isn't entering the room with two of his friends from the football team. No, he isn't planning on sitting..._

Rachel exhaled, relieved to see that Puck had decided to sit next to Quinn and Finn. For a moment, she thought that he was going to sit next to her, and she didn't want that... well, sort of. It was hard enough to reject him on his offer, as he was being all Puck (unnervingly sexy and hard to resist) that time. She wasn't stupid to think that he would just walk away after being rejected; even though she didn't know him well, she could tell that Puck was the kind of guy who, when he set his mind to it, would go to any lengths to get what he wanted. And strangely enough, it was Rachel whom he wanted this time.

_Let's not get presumptuous_, Rachel scolded herself. Maybe he was just joking around; maybe he was just going to stand her up if she said yes. That must be it. Rachel ignored the disappointed feeling rising within her. She took it as disappointment directed towards the cruelty of the kids in her school, not necessarily towards the idea of Puck breaking her heart if ever he did stand her up.

And just like that, she strengthened every bone in her body, turned every ache and muscle within her to stone; she was not going to be made a fool of. Everyone thought that Rachel Berry was pathological to some extent when rumors spread that she was the one who had Mr. Ryerson fired, and the part about Mr. Ryerson was somewhat true, but she was not pathological. The truth was, she was just tired of being made fun of. She knew that she was a special, talented girl, and that was just it; she was special enough to know that bearing talents such as hers went hand in hand with dreams and ambitions. It was tolerable when people disregarded her feelings, but to her, ignoring her talents and playing them down to a mere pastime is crossing the line. So no, she wasn't pathological. Just slightly irrational when it came to being a star. And she knew that most people couldn't handle her abrasiveness, so it was somewhat understandable that they steered clear of her, even if she wished otherwise. But this time, they'll have to handle it, because she refused to play nice with Noah Puckerman. Like she said: she was not going to be made a fool of.

So she stomped her way towards Mr. Schue, who was leaning on the shiny black piano, waiting for the kids to settle into their seats. Mr. Schue sighed; _well, this must be good_.

"Mr. Schue, I understand that as a teacher, you have to give your students the benefit of the doubt, but your execution on the matter is entirely flawed! Please tell me that you did not just invite Noah Puckerman to Glee," Rachel told him pleadingly.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but I have to be fair," Mr. Schue replied sternly, "Glee club is open to everyone, and he auditioned, so he has every right to be here with us."

"No, he doesnt!" She screeched, inadvertently catching the attention of everyone in the room. "He's clearly just doing this to be a nuisance to me, and if you weren't too busy trying to obliterate my career, you would notice this too. First, Quinn, and now that miserable miscreant-"

"You talking about me, Berry?"

Her head snapped to Puck's direction. Puck looked annoyed, and yet - was she imagining it? - he had that playful twinkle in his eyes that told her he was nothing more than amused at her. "As a matter of fact, I am. I think it's an outrageously insipid joke that you're playing, Noah Puckerman, and I demand that you-"

"I'm not joking around. I can sing too, like all of you, you know?" He laughed, amused, as Rachel's face practically screamed, _I'm going to get you expelled just like I had Mr. Ryerson fired._

"First of all, are you not aware that disrupting someone in the middle of a heated outburst is impertinent?" Rachel fumed as Puck continued to look unfazed by her, smiling in that impish way of his. "And second, I am tremendously cynical that you are a good singer. You drink too much slushies to have properly functioning vocal cords, and I would know that because you drink each slushie that you throw at my face," she huffed and folded her arms.

But instead of feeling intimidated, the ever dauntless, ever so confident jock laughed at her. He laughed, and Rachel felt heat creep up her face. And then, Puck stood up, grabbed the acoustic guitar off its stand, and wore the strap around him. He walked towards Rachel until only inches separated them from each other. "Just sit, Berry," he told her, his voice low and husky. Rachel just looked at him, gulping a bit at how close they were, and how his voice made her knees quiver. Frustrated, she muttered under her breath and begrudgingly sat in the front.

Puck walked to the center of the room and after getting the nod of approval of Mr. Schue, he brought his fingers to the strings of his guitar and began to pluck them.

And then, to Rachel's surprise, he played exceptionally well. It was a familiar tune; he hadn't sung yet, but was still playing the introduction. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and when he got used to the rhythm of the riffs, he began to sing.

_**On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered 'round**_

_**And they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found**_

_**The head nurse spoke up, and she said leave this one alone**_

_**She could tell right away, that I was bad to the bone**_

Puck's voice was low and alluring and undoubtedly masculine. He had that air and pitch of a baritone, and Rachel came to the realization that she had, for the first time, jumped to a wrong conclusion.

Puck smirked as he continued to strum and pluck the strings of the guitar.

**_Bad to the bone_**

**_Bad to the bone_**

**_B-B-B-B-Bad to the bone_**

**_B-B-B-B-Bad_**

**_B-B-B-B-Bad_**

**_Bad to the bone_**

**_I broke a thousand hearts, before I met you_**

**_I'll break a thousand more baby, before I am through_**

**_I wanna be yours pretty baby, yours and yours alone_**

**_I'm here to tell ya honey, that I'm bad to the bone_**

His voice was so refreshing from Finn's slightly scratchy voice. He sounded so different that his voice made Puck almost seem human to her. She knew the song that he was singing to well enough, and she was aware that Puck tweaked and rearranged the song to his liking, refining and improvising on the highest and lowest notes of the song to show off his voice intentionally.

_**Bad to the bone**_

_**B-B-B-Bad**_

_**B-B-B-Bad**_

_**B-B-B-Bad**_

_**Bad to the bone**_

_**I make a rich woman beg, I'll make a good woman steal**_

_**I'll make an old woman blush, and make a young woman squeal**_

_**I wanna be yours pretty baby, yours and yours alone**_

_**I'm here to tell ya honey, that I'm bad to the bone**_

Puck stared at Rachel in a conspicuous manner every time he sang the verses, and occasionally even winked at her, causing Rachel's face to look quite flushed.

_**B-B-B-B-Bad**_

_**B-B-B-B-Bad**_

_**B-B-B-B-Bad**_

_**Bad to the bone**_

He continued to play a few more riffs to signal the close of the song, and then he pressed his palm on the strings to end the song abruptly. No one spoke; they didn't have to. Puck could see all their stunned reactions, especially Rachel's. "See, told you I could sing," he added casually, with an unmistakable air of cockiness surrounding him. He strode back to his seat after returning the guitar to its stand, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Rachel following him with her gaze, still as astonished as ever.

* * *

Puck was one of the first who left the room when Mr. Schue dismissed them. This didn't really surprise Rachel; he didn't seem at all interested with Glee club, which was evident through his glassy eyes and vacant expression during rehearsal. Nevertheless, she followed him out the door as he exited.

She had to run for a bit; it was quite difficult to catch up to him when he was walking in long strides. But she didn't have to for long. All of a sudden, Puck turned to face her, and he had an eyebrow raised playfully. "Are you stalking me, Berry?"

"Hardly." She rolled her eyes. She was actually planning to apologize for her remark earlier, but clearly, Puck couldn't spare a moment or two for civility. Puck sensed that she was getting antsy and impatient with him, so he prodded her on. "Did you want to tell me something?"

She huffed. "I just wanted to apologize for my erroneous assumption. You're a very good singer, Noah, despite your constant damaging of your vocal cords."

"And? What did you think of my performance?" He looked at her expectantly, waiting for nothing else but a form of flattery or praise.

Rachel hesitated. What did she think of his performance? It was mind-blowing, to say the least. She never thought that he could sing like that, and to be honest, it was kind of... hot. Rachel blushed at the thought. She was a sucker for good singers; that's pretty much what made her look twice at Finn. And she supposed the same went for Puck. She could already hear the warning bells go off inside her head. Rachel knew better than to fall for someone as untrustworthy as Puck. And anyway, it's not like she was falling for him. Fine, she'll admit that he was charming and extremely talented, and why wouldn't she fall for him right then and there? But it was Puck. This guy pretty much made her life hell.

Ignoring all the thoughts running through her head, she replied with as minimal grumbling as she could. "I found your rendition of Bad to the Bone exceptional. You have a gift, Noah," she continued sincerely, "I'm glad that you're taking the time to share your talents with the rest of us." She offered him a smile, but it was more than that; it was a truce, a peace offering. They were going to be teammates now, and the least she could do was be nice to him, even if he didn't deserve it.

Puck didn't reply immediately. He looked like he was in deep thought, but after a while, he managed a small but genuine smile that Rachel presumed was the rare Noah smile that refused to plaster itself on his face when he was with his jock friends or when he was busy parting the crowds in the hallway like he was Moses in the Red Sea. She grinned. It felt good not to be subjected to his slushie attacks or his signature smirk.

But she spoke too soon; there it was again, that amused smile slowly forming in his face. "Do you want a ride home?"

Rachel couldn't tell if that was one of those questions wherein you'd think it was a real question, but all along, it would just lead you to a trap. "I appreciate the offer, Noah," she said slowly, carefully. "But my dads are going to pick me up soon."

To her chagrin, Noah's smirk grew wider into a toothy grin. "Well then," he replied quite nonchalantly. Then, he stepped closer to her, invading all personal space, taking up her oxygen. Their faces were just centimeters apart when he leaned over. He cupped her chin and flashed her his most dazzling smile. "I'll see you around, Berry," he said softly. She could hear the quiet amusement in his voice, in spite of her rapidly racing heart. For a brief second, his eyes roamed around her lips, and she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her, but he didn't. Instead, he dropped his arm and, after smirking at her, strode off.

Oh boy, was she in trouble.

* * *

**A/N: I need to ask you readers: who would you want Rachel to be friends with, other than Santana and Brittany? I'm seriously considering Mike or Matt, but then again, it would be nice if Kurt and Mercedes are actually nice to Rachel (sorry, but their characters in Glee are just too mean for me to like. :[ Please don't hit me with tomatoes!) I'll be waiting for your ideas in your reviews! :D**

**Oh, oh, and I forgot to say this in the earlier chapters. So sorry, Quinn fans, but someone has got to be the baddie. :( I actually ship the QuinnxRachel friendship (and might I add, why do the Glee writers not want them to be in civil terms with each other! They would be AWESOME friends.) but ah well. Maybe in another story. I'm actually pretty tempted to start another story; there are like tons of ideas in my mind for Puckleberry with a QuinnxRachel friendship on the side, but I'm pretty sure I'll be abandoning this in the process, so. :/**

**Okay, I'm rambling. Sorry. Thank you for reading/following/favorite-ing/reviewing my story! Hope I get more, haha! :D**


	6. Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed

**_A/N:_ Whoaa. Long time no post. Ehh. Idk. I kind of lost interest in Puckleberry. I was so bummed by the whole Finnchel thing. Grarr. And I seriously don't get why they're getting Quinn and Puck to be something so much. It's so idk. Boring. I mean, yeah, there's chemistry but whatever. It only goes so far. Anywayy. I wrote this a few months ago and wrote the last few paragraphs today, soo it might seem disjointed as usual. Whatever. Haha. I wonder if I still have readers. :)) This chapter is soo blahh.**

**_Disclaimer: _I don't own Glee. Do we need to disclaim all the time? I think it's understood, since this is already claimed as fanfiction.**

* * *

To Rachel's surprise, Puck did not ask her out again. His brief pursuit of her diminished into careless flirtations in the hallway and condescending sex jokes during Glee. She had grown to tolerate his crude ways, as this was Noah Puckerman – his whole persona consisted of jokes and similar impishness. But she had to admit to herself that this was a refreshing change from the usual inanity of the rest of the student population. Most of McKinley was mean, dumb, and/or downright immature. Even though Puck was part of the football team, he was neither of the three. He used to be mean, she'll give him that, but lately, he was becoming nicer, for the lack of a better word. If he ridiculed her in the slightest, it was clear that he was only joking, with no intention of hurting her feelings, and if he wasn't joking, he was usually just being his blunt self. And Puck wasn't dumb, not at all. He was merely lazy; school didn't have a place in his heart. But it was little things that Rachel noticed about him that gave away his inherent intellect – while he always complained about how much big words she used, he never once asked her what they meant, but instead, he translated them into simpler terms out loud, correcting Rachel so that she would improve on her communication skills. Lastly, Puck may be a mischief-maker, but he wasn't immature – not anymore, at least. He stopped throwing people in dumpsters and beating people up, and at his kindest, he actually resists the urge to throw a slushie at someone's face.

If she were honest with herself, she was slightly disappointed that Puck wasn't making advances towards her anymore. She would have agreed to go out on a date with him… _no, I wouldn't_, Rachel amended her thoughts. But she wouldn't have let him down as icily as she did before. They were falling into a pattern somewhat akin to friendship, but not conspicuously so. With Puck, she'll never know. His constant flirting with her confused her – _is this what friendship with Noah was like?_ But she decided not to give it much thought and just go with the flow. She'll never know, maybe one day, Puck will decide to revert to his old self and start throwing slushies at her face again.

It was several minutes before Glee rehearsal began, but already, Rachel was sitting on the piano bench, trying to perfect I Could Have Danced All Night, which she planned to place in her repertoire. She squinted as she tried to decipher the notes that hung and rested on the staffs in her sheet music and played carefully. She wasn't skilled like Brad, their pianist, but he wasn't around until Glee officially started, so she attempted to play on her own. But it was quite hard for her to concentrate on singing when she was playing, so she dropped her hands and sighed. She grabbed a celery stick from her lunch box and munched on it in silence.

Just as she was finished eating, Matt strode in, surprisingly without Mike behind. He looked uncomfortable to be there, and it was expected; he didn't really go to the choir room early, much less without Mike. As he fingered the hair on his nape, he looked over at Rachel. She offered him a mildly warm smile, and he smiled faintly in return. He looked uncertain of what to do, so Rachel spared him the awkwardness, turned back to her sheet music, and practiced.

In the midst of her playing, she ceased as she heard a soft, kind voice: "So what are you playing?" She looked up; it was Matt, and he was leaning on the piano, toward her. He was smiling, more certainly now, and she couldn't help but grin.

"I Could Have Danced All Night," she answered promptly, still beaming. "It's a song from My Fair Lady. Surely you've heard of it?" Her eyebrows rose expectantly at Matt, but he just shook his head. "It's about a Cockney flower girl named Eliza Doolittle who takes speech lessons from Professor Higgins, a misogynistic phoneticist, so she can pass as a lady. It's based on Shakespeare's Pygmalion. You must know the film adaptation! Audrey Hepburn starred as Eliza, but I'm quite certain she didn't sing the songs in the final film, as most of them are far beyond her vocal range. Then again, it would have been lovely to hear her sing, but-" She stopped abruptly as she noticed a grin slowly plastering itself on Matt's face. Realizing the reason behind it, she blushed. "I'm sorry, I've been told that I talk far too much than the average person – in fact, it was suggested more often than my liking - but it's extremely hard for me as I've trained myself to be as eloquent and articulate as I could possibly be. I'm doing it again, aren't I?" she said, embarrassed. At this, Matt laughed. Rachel winced. But it was a different laugh; he wasn't ridiculing her – it didn't sound like it, at least – but it was a friendly laugh. She smiled at the thought, and kept smiling until the corners of her lips reached her eyes, and she broke into a comfortable laugh.

"It's okay, Rachel," he said, still laughing, "Your rambling doesn't bother me." She beamed; it wasn't everyday that her verboseness wasn't followed by a 'whatever, Manhands' or 'speak English, Gleek'.

Just as she opened her mouth to voice her thoughts, Mike entered the room, followed by Santana and Brittany, who were as usual, whispering and giggling in each other's ears whilst their arms were interlocked with each other.

"Where the hell have you been, man? I've been looking everywhere for you," Matt asked his best friend, frowning, but he didn't sound that annoyed.

"He accompanied me to Ms. Pillsbury's office," Brittany answered in her usual distracted manner. "She had to talk to me about the bird I keep in my locker."

Matt and Rachel stared.

"Were you just talking to RuPaul?" Santana asked snottily, lifting her chin in derision as Rachel rolled her eyes. "I thought it was clear, we don't talk to drag queens."

"San," Matt called her off. He raised his eyebrows, shooting her a look that clearly meant, _be nice_. "Come on. She's cool you guys, really." Rachel smiled at his vouching for her.

Mike shrugged. "Good enough for me." He slung his arm around Rachel, as she tried not to smile so much. Santana rolled her eyes and sighed in resignation. "Fine, whatever," she replied and forced a smile at Rachel, but it looked more like a grimace.

"So Rachel," Mike began as more of the Glee club entered the choir room, "Sit with us?" He let go of her and bowed like a gentleman, twirling his arm before him in circles. Rachel laughed and heartily replied, "Sure." They scampered off to the nearest seats, and as they did, Rachel spotted Kurt raising an eyebrow at her. He then proceeded to whisper something to Mercedes, who in turn glanced at their direction.

"So what are you doing this weekend?" Mike asked her curiously.

"I have a theater workshop in the morning followed by dance class in the afternoon, but other than that, nothing remotely significant. Why?"

"There's a party on-"

"Mike, what the hell!" Santana groaned. "It's an exclusive party, only for Cheerios and jocks. No Gleeks." She sneered at Rachel, only to get a mildly disappointed frown from the tiny brunette.

Matt cut in. "Come on, San, be nice." Santana clamped her lips shut but remained unconvinced. Rachel had yet to prove to her that she wasn't as neurotic as she seemed.

"Rachel will go, won't you, Rachel?" Brittany piped in. "As long as you bring a date and dress nice. That sweater makes you look homeschooled." She looked pointedly at Rachel's maroon sweater with a rabbit sticking out of it, and Rachel frowned. This was her favorite sweater.

"In that case, I might need a little help," she replied with a sheepish grin, "since all my clothes are similar to this outfit." Paired with her maroon sweater were a black and gray plaid skirt, plum stockings, and mary janes.

Santana and Brittany looked at her in disbelief.

"We're going shopping," Brittany said firmly.

* * *

"Go in already, Manha- Rachel."

"I really don't think I can find anything suitable for me here. Maybe I should just stay home tomorrow night, I wouldn't fit in with your crowd anyway."

"Well have fun uploading your MySpace video and playing scrabble or whatever it is that you do, by yourself, _again_."

Rachel looked at Santana and received an impatient scowl, followed by a defeated expression. "Look, Rachel," Santana began, sounding thoroughly beat. "This is me being nice. And I'm only being 'nice'," she lifted her hands to air quote, "because Matt is asking me to, and I kind of owe him after cheating on him a few days ago with-" she glanced at Brittany, who bit her lip. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Can you just _let_ me be nice to you?"

Rachel blinked and returned her gaze at the trendy boutique before her. She didn't really go for their styles; the mannequin on display wore a dressy halter top, a dark wash mini skirt, and knee high boots, complete with fishnet stockings. But Santana was being nice – in her standards, anyway – and she had finally made friends – well, sort of – and she was never invited to a party before – unless she counted family gatherings and bar mitzvahs. She made it seem like singing was her whole life, and it somewhat was, but she owed it to herself to let her hair down once in a while and take a break from her serious ambitions. And deep in her heart, she wanted to prove to these people who have ridiculed her for so long that hey, Rachel Berry _can_ be cool; she can get off her proverbial high horse and have fun if she wanted to. Besides, who was she to reject Santana's offer of momentary kindness?

She shrugged. "Oh, alright, Santana," she smiled as the Latina exhaled in relief and consequently dragged her into the store, but not before swearing hearing Brittany mutter to herself: "He wasn't _that_ upset when he found out about us."

A cool fragrant odor, fluorescent lighting, and a salesperson greeted her, offering them assistance. The clothes looked too risqué for her, but Santana and Brittany thought otherwise as they started taking clothes off hangers with happy looks on their faces. "This is almost as good as going to the tanning salon," she heard Santana giggle to Brittany.

Brittany gasped. "You've got to try this on, Rach." She stared at the ensemble that Brittany displayed in her hand, and gulped.

"I don't know," she said hesitantly. It looked like something a high-class prostitute would wear.

"We weren't asking for your opinion," Santana snickered. They walked over to Rachel and dumped the clothes on her hands. "Go change," she commanded her. "We'll wait here."

Once she entered the dressing room and began to undress, Santana's muffled voice broke the silence. "And we'll have to take care of your date. God forbid you might show up with a toddler or worse, alone. Now let's see, whom do we know who can tolerate Ru- Rachel for a whole night and is smokin' hot?" But she didn't get to respond; she could hear Santana's fingers gliding over the keys of her phone.

As Rachel threw the top they chose for her over her head, she heard Santana talk on the phone. "Hey, Puck, do you have a date for tomorrow?" _Puck?_ Rachel screeched silently. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Santana." But Santana ignored her and said, "Good, think you can be Rachel's date?" Pause. "Wow, okay, cool. Thanks." She hung up and smiled, pretty pleased at herself.

"Please tell me you did not just ask Noah Puckerman to be my date," she pleaded behind the door.

"Sorry," Santana shrugged, not sorry at all. "Come on, what's the problem? He's hot, and you're into him, right?"

"I am most certainly not into him, Santana," she replied huffily, reddening at the assumption.

"Okaay." But Rachel suspected that she didn't really believe her. "Anyway, are you done yet? Show us!"

"Alright, alright." She unlocked the door and swung it open.

"You look…" The cheerleading duo stared at her, agape.

Rachel's face reddened, uncomfortable with their staring. "I look terrible, don't I? Okay, I'm going to change back now-"

"Shut up, Manhands," Santana interrupted her, not even aware that she fell back into her habit of calling Rachel names. "You look hot!"

"More than hot," Brittany looked at her from head to toe. I would totally jump this." She waved her hand in circles at Rachel.

Rachel beamed.

* * *

Things couldn't have gone any better for Puck. He was so going to win the bet, and he didn't even try that much. For the past couple of days, he had been too distracted (cougar season!) to strive for Rachel's love, but here he was, on her front porch, about to take her out on a date. He was this close to getting himself some Berry. All he had to do was get her drunk and maybe, just maybe, they'd finally seal the deal.

He wasn't alone on Rachel's porch; Matt and Mike were with him. Santana had instructed earlier that they pick the girls up at Rachel's house around nine because they were going to get ready there, but it was already past nine and after ringing the doorbell twice, no one had come to open the door for them.

Just then, Brittany's head popped out of the window on the second floor. Puck could spot the pink walls and girly décor, so he assumed it was Rachel's room. "We'll be right down, guys. Just a sec." Then in the blink of an eye, Brittany was no longer there.

"Girls," Mike chuckled, breaking the silence between them. Matt and Puck's glares shriveled him back into silence.

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Santana was at the door. She was wearing a simple red spaghetti strap dress that had a plunging neckline and ended mid-thigh, and her eyes were heavily made up with smoky eye shadow and mascara. "Looking good, San," Puck grinned appreciatively. Matt coughed 'get your own girl' with no discretion at all, and Puck rolled his eyes. "Whatever dude, totally forgot she was yours." It was Matt's turn to roll his eyes. He smiled at Santana, saying, "You do look great, Santana." She grinned, satisfied with the compliment.

"Rachel there?" Puck inquired as he attempted to peek inside, but Santana was still standing in the doorway. She was smirking at him. "What?" Puck asked impatiently. "You'll be thanking me soon, Puckerman," she grinned. And she opened the door wider.

He would have never guessed that when Santana let him in, he would be gazing at a sexy, alluring, _beautiful _stranger who stood before him. Her hair was ironed into soft tousled beach waves. She was clad in a black mini dress that shimmered ever so softly as she shifted her weight to her other leg. And speaking of legs, they looked endless in that dress, its hemline just stopping short above mid-thigh. With his mind temporarily shut down, he walked towards her, drawn to the vision. She looked so… different. He could barely recognize her, and she wasn't even wearing much makeup.

"Looking good, Rach," he murmured, as he glided towards her.

Rachel smiled, a faint hue of pink coloring her cheeks. "Why, thank you, Noah."

Puck had forgotten that there were other people in the room, because when another voice spoke up, he had to blink several times before realizing that he wasn't alone.

"You look gorgeous, Rach," Matt smiled, but he lacked the desire and captivation that were evident in Puck's eyes. All the same, Puck glared at him and mouthed 'get your own girl'. Mike snorted.

"Hey, baby," Brittany crooned at Mike as she walked to him and threw her arms around him. Then, they started making out in front of them. Santana and Matt were smiling smugly, and then they began to get themselves into an intense make out session as well. And so it was Noah and Rachel left standing there awkwardly, watching them lock lips with each other. Well, only Rachel – Puck was busy marveling at her figure.

"We can make out too, if you want," Puck grinned, his eyes still on her legs. Rachel suddenly felt self-conscious and found herself blushing fiercely. She cleared her throat to get their attention. "Guys," she said loudly, only to be glared at by the couples. "Um, party, remember?"

Pause. "Right," Mike groaned. Then his face lit up; he turned to Brittany with a goofy smile on his face. "Unless you want to stay, Brit?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Laughing, Brittany ruffled his hair, they laughed at the scene, and for once, Rachel felt like she belonged.

* * *

The feeling vanished once she stepped inside the house. For an exclusive party, there sure were a lot of people. She was appalled at the events occurring at the party; all seemed to be intoxicated – tipsy at best, and as the stereo blared, coupled grinded against each other. But apparently, it was a normal occurrence, because the rest of the group walked into the party looking right at home. Santana shouted in her ear, "Is this a bitchin' party or what!"

Rachel nodded automatically, but shrugged with honesty when Santana raised an eyebrow at her. The cheerleader rolled her eyes and took her by the hand. "First off, drinks."

"I'll take care of that, San," Puck interrupted. Santana let go of Rachel's hand and raised her hands in resignation. She grabbed Matt's hand and said, "Come on, Matt," before sauntering off, trailed by Brittany and Mike.

Rachel didn't even have time to think; soon enough, Puck's hand slid into hers, and she felt safe. His hands were huge and callous, but the spaces of his fingers fit so perfectly against her tiny fingers as she entwined them into his. She ignored the rapid beating of her heart as they weaved through the drunken crowd in search for drinks.

As Puck filled her cup with ice and what looked and smelled like alcohol, Rachel busied herself by scanning the room for familiar faces. Other than the people she came to the party with, she spotted no friendly face. Well, there was Quinn, standing there as a random cheerleader chatted with her and staring… at her.

Rachel blinked, not really knowing what to do. Did her blatant eye contact mean that she wanted to talk to her? Just as she was emotionally preparing for another verbal beat down, a huge figure obscured her view of Quinn.

"Rachel Berry?" She looked up and groaned inwardly. David Karofsky was standing there with an obnoxious grin on his face, eyeing Rachel as if she was some sort of candy and he, a primitive animal. "You're looking fine!" He gave her the head-to-toe onceover with pure appreciation on his face. "If you cleaned yourself up like that more often…" He didn't have to finish his sentence. Rachel could read the lust in his face as he licked his lips hungrily.

Disgusted, she scowled. "Get lost, David. I'm unimpressed by your lack of brain cells, nor your sudden interest in me." And just like that, the jock's leer transformed into a menacing glare. "Listen, Gleek-"

"You heard her, Karofsky. Fuck off." Rachel turned to see Puck right behind her, drinks in hand and a glare on his face.

"Oh hey, Puckerman," Karofsky replied nonchalantly. "Guess you got your dick back, huh? I mean, you lost it when you joined Homo Explosion, right?" A few bystanders snickered as he sneered at Puck.

"Don't be jealous I have a dick, dipshit. It's not my fault you have a vagina." Rachel tried not to smile – she did not tolerate swearing – but no effort was needed; she caught the iciness in his tone and was startled. She was used to Puck's cool comebacks, but he usually looked apathetic, or annoyed when it came to people he didn't really like. But this time, she noticed his face hardening by the second, as though he were trying to control the fire within him.

He must have noticed her observing him, because he leaned over and murmured in her ear, "Let's go." He didn't give her time to respond; immediately, he grabbed her hand and led her away from Karofsky, but before they could escape him, Karofsky laughed loudly and said, "No fucking way, dude! You're dating this freak? She must put out well, huh?"

Rachel barely saw what happened. A split second after Karofsky had slapped her backside, he was down to the ground with his nose bleeding. Horrified, she looked up at Puck, whose fist was slightly bleeding from the punch. "Touch her again, and I'll make fucking sure your balls are castrated, got that?" He snarled, gritting his teeth. He was just about to kick him in the groin as he was sprawled on the floor, but he heard a soft voice, "Noah," behind him.

His face softened once he caught the reproachful look on her face.

"You know I don't approve of violence, Noah," she began accusingly. After the incident, Rachel quickly snatched a cold bag of peas from the freezer and dragged Puck into the nearest room, which happened to be a mini-library. In silence, Rachel motioned Puck to sit down on the chair before sitting on his lap. She then proceeded to hold the hand that he used to punch Karofsky in the face and buried it with the cold bag of peas. "But thank you. That was very chivalrous," she continued quietly. Rachel looked down at his hand and pretended to focus entirely on his bruised knuckles.

Meanwhile, Puck thought he was dying. Rachel was on his lap, and her long silky hair smelled like strawberries. _For Christ's sake._ "No problem," he muttered, utterly distracted by her. Her hair was practically on his face, and he resisted every urge to lean in and just smell her. _For Christ's sake_, Noah repeated frustratedly in his mind. _God, what's wrong with me? Getting off on a chick's scent? So not badass._

"Why did you do it?" Rachel interrupted his thoughts. "Huh?" he replied mechanically, still distracted by her hair. She looked at him, unaware of his trancelike state. "Why did you punch him?"

She could feel his muscles coil at the question. "He was being a jackass," he told her, a frown forming in his forehead. He looked at her, but all he got was a blank stare. "He was," she said simply. Silence filled the room. She didn't have to ask; he knew the question in her mind, begging to be asked. _Do you normally punch people who were being rude to someone you claim you don't care about?_

He didn't, Puck reminded himself firmly. He didn't care about Rachel Berry. Why would he? She was nothing to him. He liked Quinn, right? His throat suddenly felt constricted as he remembered the bet that he made with her. Right. He wanted to get into Quinn's pants, not Rachel's. Rachel was just a means to an end. A toy in the grander scheme of things.

So why was he staring at her like that?

* * *

**_A/N:_ I know it sucks. Haha. Comment and tell me what to improve on.**


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